


Even Weirder Noises

by IMemeReylo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fun, Humor, Implied Smut, Meme, Neighbours, non-descriptive smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 08:03:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18936799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMemeReylo/pseuds/IMemeReylo
Summary: If you hear weird noises in the middle of the night, simply make even weirder noises to assert your dominance.In which Rey is fed up of being kept awake by her neighbour making weird noises so she retaliates and confronts him.





	Even Weirder Noises

The noises begin not long after she moves in. 

At first, she just writes them off as byproducts that come naturally with living in a bad part of town in a rundown apartment building. It houses all kinds of people from all walks of life. From the eccentric to the downright weird, the inhabitants are far from the norm.

So she ignores the sounds. 

Until they begin to keep her awake at night. It’s past three in the morning. The plug in alarm clock beside her bed says so, its red LED lights are not so harsh on her tired eyes. She’s not exactly sure what they kind of noises they are or what they’re supposed to be but it sounds like a mixture of someone choking a chicken and a sputtering motorcycle engine. 

She’s due at the diner in just over two hours so she beats at her wall with one of the books she keeps by her bed and hollers a string of curses. It’s definitely her neighbour making the odd noises and apparently he hears her as all goes quiet for a moment. 

For a beautiful few seconds of ignorant bliss, she assumes her nightmare has come to an end and she can finally attempt to salvage some semblance of a regular sleeping pattern.

Just as she settles back into bed, book back on her bedside table and body curled around her beloved body pillow, she hears the sound again.

The loud pops and clicks of someone tutting their tongue pierce right through her eardrum. It cracks her up. Then they reach new heights, the stupid man next door starts chanting in a deep rhythmic way that resembles a tribe’s ancient ritual song she had seen on the discovery channel. Like a human didgeridoo but even more annoying. 

Apparently her attempt to silence him just made him louder so she grunts, snatches up a handful of pillows and blankets and stomps through to the living room, muttering her annoyance. After work, she will go round and finally give him a piece of her mind. Not that she had any real idea what he looked like, they most definitely came and went at different hours. She imagines a hermit type with a beard to his knees and the stench on incense rolling off him in waves.

She stews on the couch for another few minutes, her heart racing before she finally calms down enough to sleep.

After her shift at the diner, she climbs the stairs all the way to the twelfth floor after finding the elevator broken for the fifth time this month. It’s a joke but Plutt doesn’t give a shit. He just sits in the ground floor office drinking dirt cheap whiskey while he skims through german porn channels. 

A weariness has set in by the time she makes it to her neighbour’s door. All she wants to do is go home and veg out in front of the television and sink a few beers. Maybe heat a frozen pizza. Spoil herself. It’s her day off tomorrow so she can stay up late but she wants a good sleep and the only way she can achieve it is by knocking the guy down a peg or two.

She toes his neat welcome mat with her sneaker before beating her fist against the door. It’s far from gentle but her patience has long run thin after too many sleepless nights and gruelling morning shifts.

No answer.

It makes her sigh and try again, this time a little louder but nothing stirs beyond the door. Maybe the mystery man’s out and putting those weird noises to good use. Strangling a couple of chickens or maybe, if she is lucky, he has finally returned to his Australian homeland to take his place as the president of the didgeridoo appreciation fanclub.

Not willing to let him get away with his unusual nocturnal activities, she rummages in her purse until she finds her neon yellow post-it notes and her trusty sharpie.

‘SHUT THE FUCK UP,’ she writes, the pen squeaks with how hard she grips it. 

It smells good and reminds her of high school parties where the first unlucky person to pass out after draining a few solo cups full of keg beer was scribbled on. 

Dicks mostly, or moustaches that far surpassed any of the scruff the guys could sprout back then.

Most of her fellow high school students lacked any real creativity or imagination when drunk.

After she finishes her less than nice note, she slaps it on the door and strides to her apartment, unlocking it with a smile and a nice sense of smugness.

Later, she’s nursing her sixth beer and making her way through a slice of pizza. It is a little burnt but she endures. 

Then the noises start up.

The same chicken and throat clearing sounds.

But she’s more than a bit tipsy so instead of confronting him like a rational person, she starts to wail and howl like a wolf, much louder than he is.

It makes him stop his own act so she smirks, draining the last of her beer.

It’s quiet with just the background laughter track of some old sitcom she’s hardly paying attention to sounding through the small apartment. 

It remains that way for the rest of the night.

A week passes in the same fashion. She gets comfortable, thinking her note and even weirder noises did the trick of shutting him up for good. She’s curled up on the couch, sprawled out and tossing salted popcorn into her mouth. The other neighbours are partaking in a loud session of ‘let’s see how loud I can make her scream on my dick,’ so Rey’s confined to the living room. They didn’t really bother her. The neighbour’s a quick finisher, just a bit more than a one pump chump, so she knows she can retreat to her bed in peace before long.

Her other neighbour has other plans. She can hear his floorboards creaking as he starts his crap again. Tonight, he sounds like a dentist drill. 

What the hell is he doing?

It gets louder and louder until she scrambles off the couch and jogs to the wall that makes up both of their respective apartments.

This time, she yodels and kicks her bare feet at the wall. He stops and she hears him approach the wall as she continues but she’s too far gone, practically hysterical as she gives that kid from Walmart a run for his money. If only she owned a cowboy hat.

The weird sound starts up again, louder and she knows, she just knows he’s pressed against the wall, hearing what she’s doing and trying to one up her. So she digs deep, wracking her brain and begins to moo like a cow, ranging from deep to high. It’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever done.

She’s flushed, it’s summer and everything is piling up and making her suffer but then she hears a deep laugh.

It makes her cease all of her activity. 

“No encore?” 

The voice is deep. 

The kind of deep that makes her wish something was deep in _her._

And she begins to think of what the man on the other side of the wall looks like. She tells herself that’s not the reason she practically flies out of her apartment and knocks on his door.

This time, it opens almost immediately, revealing a tall topless man, clad only in jeans. A rolled up wad of white paper’s in his fist.

He’s smiling, showing off white, slightly crooked teeth but suiting of him.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” She asks, trying and failing not to notice how good he looks.

He’s the kind of guy that looks like he could spear a tree and knock it down, roots and all. So thick with deep, earned muscle and hands that would likely swallow her right up.

“Are you the one who left the note?”

He crosses his arms against his chest, making them flex. His dark hair’s swept away from his face, held there by a pair of thick-framed glasses that have been pushed away from his eyes. 

He’s not what she had been expecting. 

He’s handsome, not in the conventional sense but classical. Strong, sharp features, a nose almost too big for his face and full lips that have no business belonging to a man.

She wonders what other sounds come out of them. What he can do with them when he puts his mind to it. She squeezes her thighs together and hopes he doesn’t notice.

He leans against the doorframe, looking amused. He’s caught her checking him out and he seems far from shy. She peeks a final glance at the trail of dark hair leading down into his jeans and finally nods.

“You’re keeping me awake. I work early shifts.”

“I didn’t realise you could hear it all. I’m a singer. Well, trying to be and my warming up technique is a little weird and excessive. I’m sorry.”

It’s odd, he seems genuinely remorseful, his brows draw together and a little crease forms between them. It explained a lot.

“Did you not hear me banging on the wall? Or my-“

“-your dirty little mouth cursing.”

She swallows hard, feels a hot blush worm its way into her cheeks.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t think you were talking to me.”

Her brain short circuits for a split second.

“How could you not know I was asking you to keep the noise down?”

“I mean, I heard the banging and cursing and assumed you were being fucked,” he replies, chuckling.

That shuts her up. Maybe she squeaks but she feels light on her feet. Just hearing him say the word ‘fucked,’ reminds her of her dry spell turned drought of colossal proportions. 

“No, I wasn’t,” she drops her gaze to the floor.

“Oh so all those dirty words were for me. I can’t say I’m annoyed, Miss-”

“-I’m Rey,” she chokes out, mustering the courage to look at him again. The tips of his ears are red.

“I’m Ben.”

He offers his hand and she takes it. It’s warm and her earlier assumptions were correct, it dwarfs her slender fingers.

Yet neither move to let go.

His eyes are burning holes into her own, then they roam lower. Like she’d done earlier, he takes his time to take in every inch on show. Though she is wearing a camisole and short sleeping shorts, she feels naked and exposed.

“I don’t know if I’ve read this wrong but do you want to come in, maybe give the couple two doors down a run for their money?”

She thinks it over, biting her lip and he groans, his fingers squeeze hers just a little bit tighter.

“Okay.”

He opens the door wider.

“It’s been a while,” she tells him as she follows him inwards.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I know just how to warm you up.”

“Was that a vocal cord joke mixed with a sex joke?” 

She barks out a laugh, feeling his hands on the back of her thighs as he hoists her up so he can press her against the wall, settling between her legs. 

“Maybe...don’t hold back. I want to hear all the sounds you make.”

She laughs.

And when they finish, a crumpled heap of limbs and panting breaths, she’s sure they were louder than the couple two doors down.

Weird noises and all.


End file.
